The Leading Player (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
guardianofsplendor) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
itscurtains2016-11-28 02:42 pm
guardianofsplendor) wrote in itscurtains2016-11-28 02:42 pm
CURTAIN CALL
[Once all is said and done, the Leading Player turns her attention back to everyone else. She claps her hands once and the lights turn off and on in quick succession in an attempt to gain back everyone’s attention.]
Ladies! Gentlemen! Cast, crew, and audience alike! Under the usual genre conventions this would be where I would demand you vote to choose your fate, to stay with my troupe or have one of you sacrifice yourselves to the flames and bring this game to an end. However, you’ve all already made your votes clear and due to executive demand we’re obligated to present you with the ending you’ve earned by stealing my crew and forming a united front. You’re all real cute, with your private Plurks. [Wow, bitter much, LP?]
So enjoy your happy, sappy ending. I’m sure Denny’s will love having you. [She snaps her fingers and the fires in the pit finally extinguish.] Show’s over. Fastrada, get the others. Lewis, take the curtains, get the ghost lights, clean up the house. Berthe, take down the page since someone would rather go be a hermit handing out seeds to children than help me with CSS. And turn off the email notifications, I don’t even want to look at this!
[The remaining stagehands, those who didn’t respond to the cast’s attempts at friendship, look at each other and split off, posture a little downtrodden as they slink into the wings or the house. One of them starts to gather up the ghostlights from the side of the stage; another begins stripping the curtains.
The Player herself hops down from her platform, landing easily. For a moment, she stands looking down into the pit, posture tense. One hand rests on her hip; the other hangs at her side, still holding Hans’s winter coat.]
Charlemagne, get the throne.
[Still up there, the Balladeer sidesteps the stagehand as he comes to take the chair, and cautiously begins to make his way down the stairs. The Player pays him no mind; she takes a breath, straightens, and steps around the pit towards the apron.]
And as for all of you - [It’s not clear who she’s addressing now but it’s not the characters.] - we hope you’ve enjoyed your time with us, as participants or even simply as spectators. Hopefully you’ll join us the next time around. Unfortunately, I don’t think I will be. [She snaps her fingers and seemingly out of nowhere a hat and cane appear. The coat doesn’t fit the aesthetic, but she slings it over her shoulder nonetheless. The stagehands moving the platform away and taking down the lighting rigs part before her as she turns and strides upstage.]
I’m erasing myself from the narrative
Let future murdergame casts wonder
Where the Player went to
When she left the stage
Go turn your new page,
And I’ll watch this burn...
[She pauses before the last curtain, letting the orchestra continue the song without her for a few phrases.]
I forfeit my rights to all this. Whatever you took from my office, just give it to him. [She jerks her head towards the Balladeer.]
Let him have the memory
Of when this was ours…
...the world seemed to burn...
[Without looking back, she parts the curtain, steps through, and is gone. The remaining stagehands filter out a few moments later, leaving a bare stage and a quiet theatre behind them.
But, of course, there's still a little more magic to do, isn't there?]
Ladies! Gentlemen! Cast, crew, and audience alike! Under the usual genre conventions this would be where I would demand you vote to choose your fate, to stay with my troupe or have one of you sacrifice yourselves to the flames and bring this game to an end. However, you’ve all already made your votes clear and due to executive demand we’re obligated to present you with the ending you’ve earned by stealing my crew and forming a united front. You’re all real cute, with your private Plurks. [Wow, bitter much, LP?]
So enjoy your happy, sappy ending. I’m sure Denny’s will love having you. [She snaps her fingers and the fires in the pit finally extinguish.] Show’s over. Fastrada, get the others. Lewis, take the curtains, get the ghost lights, clean up the house. Berthe, take down the page since someone would rather go be a hermit handing out seeds to children than help me with CSS. And turn off the email notifications, I don’t even want to look at this!
[The remaining stagehands, those who didn’t respond to the cast’s attempts at friendship, look at each other and split off, posture a little downtrodden as they slink into the wings or the house. One of them starts to gather up the ghostlights from the side of the stage; another begins stripping the curtains.
The Player herself hops down from her platform, landing easily. For a moment, she stands looking down into the pit, posture tense. One hand rests on her hip; the other hangs at her side, still holding Hans’s winter coat.]
Charlemagne, get the throne.
[Still up there, the Balladeer sidesteps the stagehand as he comes to take the chair, and cautiously begins to make his way down the stairs. The Player pays him no mind; she takes a breath, straightens, and steps around the pit towards the apron.]
And as for all of you - [It’s not clear who she’s addressing now but it’s not the characters.] - we hope you’ve enjoyed your time with us, as participants or even simply as spectators. Hopefully you’ll join us the next time around. Unfortunately, I don’t think I will be. [She snaps her fingers and seemingly out of nowhere a hat and cane appear. The coat doesn’t fit the aesthetic, but she slings it over her shoulder nonetheless. The stagehands moving the platform away and taking down the lighting rigs part before her as she turns and strides upstage.]
I’m erasing myself from the narrative
Let future murdergame casts wonder
Where the Player went to
When she left the stage
Go turn your new page,
And I’ll watch this burn...
[She pauses before the last curtain, letting the orchestra continue the song without her for a few phrases.]
I forfeit my rights to all this. Whatever you took from my office, just give it to him. [She jerks her head towards the Balladeer.]
Let him have the memory
Of when this was ours…
...the world seemed to burn...
[Without looking back, she parts the curtain, steps through, and is gone. The remaining stagehands filter out a few moments later, leaving a bare stage and a quiet theatre behind them.
But, of course, there's still a little more magic to do, isn't there?]
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[ Considering Hans' history that would be. Kinda dangerous. But he really is trying? Since the manipulation thing did not go so well for him. ]
She did seem to enjoy Anna and Billy's "wedding" well enough. Maybe she just doesn't see other people as people, who knows.
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[Well, it's not been enough time to say if the man will learn something about trusting strangers from this whole thing.]
I never talked to her too much. Couldn't really tell what she thought about any of us - today's the first time I've ever seen her with somethin' other than that smug look on her face.
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[ Bal was still nice to her. There was obviously... well, some baggage there. ]
It's hard to imagine her being there for you all like the Balladeer was for us. But she seemed so obsessed with people's roles, maybe if she'd opened up to someone she could have changed too.
[ I mean doesn't that work for everyone? ]
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Maybe. She did the role thing with us too - never seemed to think we broke the rule though.
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After seven weeks, you were all exactly the same?
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But she never shot anybody, so whatever we did just must've not pissed her off as much. Which doesn't surprise me - you met the crew. Half of us were changin' into the kinda people she could work with.
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Or maybe your group just had more assholes.
[ Hans will be the first to admit he was one of them. ]
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[ Bal's distaste for his old cast makes so much sense. ]
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[ And not yours, huh, Hans. Nope, definitely not..... ]
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[Even he didn't like it, and he'd literally never seen a gun before. Freaked out the people who knew it for what it was a lot more.]
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[ Guns should not be automatic like that, rude. ]
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I imagine once he started acting outside his role, the Leading Player started losing her grip on him. He was choosing us over her, so she had Natalie killed on his watch so that we would have no choice but to declare a mistrial. Then when the Balladeer offered himself off to save us, she... she executed him just like all the others.
No, I should say she executed him personally. She shot him right before our eyes.
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People in my cast thought they were friends with her too. You saw how it was. [He nods at the (former) stagehands.] I guess bein' stuck here so long, of course they'd get attached after a little while. But she never did anything to help anyone, not even the ones she liked. It was just about the show.
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That didn't work out for him, either.
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[ He shrugs. It's not a crazy assumption, considering the circumstances. ]
The Leading Player offered him protection. I doubt he would have taken it if he wasn't scared.
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[ That's kind of his boyfriend, wow?? But yeah his cast was kind of mostly spoiled aristocrats, everyone was so... nice. ]
I think I got haunted once towards the end... you guys sure liked breaking things didn't you?
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And hey - you try dyin', see how happy you feel.
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[ HE GUESSES. Boy howdy it must suck being dead. ]
Maybe if someone had gotten through to her—well, there's no point in maybes now. She had her chance and she chose to leave.
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